Pharnaces had recently defeated a Roman army sent to stop him and was now inciting other local rulers to rebel. So lightning-quick and easy was Caesar’s victory over Pharnaces in Pontus that he could write boastfully to a friend, “Veni, vidi, vici” (I came, I saw, I conquered). He added that it was little wonder that Pompey had built a reputation as a great general if all the eastern enemies he had fought had been of this caliber.
On September 24, 47, Caesar finally landed back in Italy and hurried to Rome to assess the “dangerous rifts” for himself. The problems were formidable—restive, time-served legions eager for disbandment, breakdowns in law and order and economic stagnation. Antony had not performed as well this time as he had during Caesar’s absence fighting against Pompey’s supporters in Spain.
The thirty-six-year-old Antony had, of course, proved his talents as a military commander early in Egypt and later in Gaul. His men loved him for his courage, judgment and stamina and also for his generosity. Like Caesar, he had an effortless charm and understood how to inspire loyalty and devotion. Plutarch noted how he had the common touch—the ability to make himself one of the lads: “his swaggering air, his ribald talk, his fondness for carousing in public, sitting down by his men as they ate, or taking his own food standing at the common-mess table made his own troops delight in his company and almost worship him.” An imposing physical appearance enhanced his endearingly bluff manner. A handsome bull of a man with wild curls, broad shoulders and muscular thighs, he exuded strength and energy. Cicero would sneeringly deride him as resembling a prizefighter.
Antony could also be a clear-thinking, imaginative, decisive administrator—otherwise Caesar would not have twice left him in charge of Italy in critical times. However, growing quickly bored with the routines of political and administrative life, which held little appeal for him as a natural man of action rather than reflection, Antony had given way with gusto to his sensual, self-indulgent side. Lost in a sybaritic whirl of parties, drinking and lovemaking, his favorite companions had become actors, musicians and courtesans. With ill-placed brio, he had taken to riding about in a chariot drawn by lions in imitation of Bacchus or to taking his favorite actress with him when he visited other cities on official business, reputedly providing her with a retinue larger than he accorded his mother, Julia. Racked by hangovers and bleary-eyed after all-night drinking bouts, he struggled to get out of bed in the morning. On one occasion, after a particularly heavy night, he astonished members of the popular assembly who had summoned him to an early meeting by arriving still worse for wear and throwing up in front of them into a cloak thoughtfully held out for him by one of his friends. When riots broke out in support of attempts by the tribune Dolabella to introduce a decree canceling all debts, a lethargic Antony had at first done nothing, then reacted with unnecessary violence. One reason for his sudden brutality was said to be a growing suspicion that Dola-bella was cuckolding him with his wife, Antonia.
Convinced that Antony’s had not been a safe pair of hands, Caesar, for the moment at least, dropped him, leaving him without any official role. He had himself elected as consul for the following year, 46, and chose a relative nonentity, Lepidus, whom he thought could be trusted to show no initiative, to be his co-consul and to replace Antony as master of the horse. To sweeten his political supporters, Caesar increased the number of priesthoods and praetor-ships and appointed his cronies to them. To seduce the populace, he ordered landlords to freeze their rents for a year. He also placed a ban on some of the 94 luxury foods that made up such a key part of the conspicuous consumption envied and despised in equal measure by those unable to afford it.
On September 24, 47, Caesar finally landed back in Italy and hurried to Rome to assess the “dangerous rifts” for himself. The problems were formidable—restive, time-served legions eager for disbandment, breakdowns in law and order and economic stagnation. Antony had not performed as well this time as he had during Caesar’s absence fighting against Pompey’s supporters in Spain.
The thirty-six-year-old Antony had, of course, proved his talents as a military commander early in Egypt and later in Gaul. His men loved him for his courage, judgment and stamina and also for his generosity. Like Caesar, he had an effortless charm and understood how to inspire loyalty and devotion. Plutarch noted how he had the common touch—the ability to make himself one of the lads: “his swaggering air, his ribald talk, his fondness for carousing in public, sitting down by his men as they ate, or taking his own food standing at the common-mess table made his own troops delight in his company and almost worship him.” An imposing physical appearance enhanced his endearingly bluff manner. A handsome bull of a man with wild curls, broad shoulders and muscular thighs, he exuded strength and energy. Cicero would sneeringly deride him as resembling a prizefighter.
Antony could also be a clear-thinking, imaginative, decisive administrator—otherwise Caesar would not have twice left him in charge of Italy in critical times. However, growing quickly bored with the routines of political and administrative life, which held little appeal for him as a natural man of action rather than reflection, Antony had given way with gusto to his sensual, self-indulgent side. Lost in a sybaritic whirl of parties, drinking and lovemaking, his favorite companions had become actors, musicians and courtesans. With ill-placed brio, he had taken to riding about in a chariot drawn by lions in imitation of Bacchus or to taking his favorite actress with him when he visited other cities on official business, reputedly providing her with a retinue larger than he accorded his mother, Julia. Racked by hangovers and bleary-eyed after all-night drinking bouts, he struggled to get out of bed in the morning. On one occasion, after a particularly heavy night, he astonished members of the popular assembly who had summoned him to an early meeting by arriving still worse for wear and throwing up in front of them into a cloak thoughtfully held out for him by one of his friends. When riots broke out in support of attempts by the tribune Dolabella to introduce a decree canceling all debts, a lethargic Antony had at first done nothing, then reacted with unnecessary violence. One reason for his sudden brutality was said to be a growing suspicion that Dola-bella was cuckolding him with his wife, Antonia.
Convinced that Antony’s had not been a safe pair of hands, Caesar, for the moment at least, dropped him, leaving him without any official role. He had himself elected as consul for the following year, 46, and chose a relative nonentity, Lepidus, whom he thought could be trusted to show no initiative, to be his co-consul and to replace Antony as master of the horse. To sweeten his political supporters, Caesar increased the number of priesthoods and praetor-ships and appointed his cronies to them. To seduce the populace, he ordered landlords to freeze their rents for a year. He also placed a ban on some of the 94 luxury foods that made up such a key part of the conspicuous consumption envied and despised in equal measure by those unable to afford it.
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